Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone

by Cambria Hebert

  “Yes, but this is a different kind of upset!”

  “And how am I supposed to keep up with your mood swings?” I wondered aloud.

  She gasped, putting a hand to her throat. “There you go insulting me again.” Her legs were still wobbly, making her look like a newborn calf trying to walk as she “stormed” ahead toward the street.

  I could have easily caught up to her, but I decided to let her think she was leaving me behind. That lasted about four seconds until anxiety whispered at the back of my neck as she grew closer to the street. I didn’t think the guy was out there, but I didn’t want her going first. If I had to see her snatched away one more time tonight, there was no telling what I might do.

  “Princess.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she called over her shoulder, still forging ahead.

  “Stop.”

  She didn’t stop, about to step from the alley. Just then, a man in all black walked past, his steps quick, stride powerful. She nearly collided with him, a shriek echoing around us.

  The man barely spared her a glance as he kept going, but Ivory wasn’t so unaffected. Fleeing backward, she locked her eyes on me, terror leaching what little color was left in her cheeks.

  Planting my feet, I opened my arms in invitation.

  She was so slight and weak that I barely moved with the collision. Her trembling arms wound around my waist beneath the flannel, fingers interlocking and pressing against my spine. Her face buried into my chest, and I swear if her legs weren’t quivering so bad, she’d have wrapped them around me too.

  We said nothing, just stood there in the dark with her in my arms as I tried to reassure her with my presence alone.

  The wind blew, and she shivered, a signal it was time to go.

  A low whine vibrated her throat when I peeled her off me. Chuckling, I kept moving, crouching in front of her. “C’mon, princess, your carriage awaits.”

  I knew she was exhausted when she didn’t bother to protest, instead climbing on my back and wrapping her body around me from behind. Straightening, I lifted her a little higher and set off down the street toward the Rotten Apple.

  Izzie’s shop came into sight, and Ivory made a small sound, the arms around my neck tightening. “I don’t want those clothes.”

  With a slight smirk, I asked, “Not even the sweater?”

  She leaned forward, peering over my shoulder toward the bag I carried. “You bought me that sweater?”

  The smirk turned into a full-blown smile. “It’s like an Aurora.”

  She slumped back. “You’re making fun of me again.”

  Oh, beneath that aloof exterior, she was so sensitive and easily hurt. Possessiveness rose inside me, overcoming all thought.

  Reaching up and cupping one of her hands clasped around me, I lifted it, pressing a soft kiss against the palm. “I’m not making fun, sweetheart. I think you’re cute.”

  “No one thinks I’m cute.”

  “No? Then what do people think of you?”

  “They think I’m beautiful.”

  “Well, you are that too.”

  “You’re bad at apologizing.”

  “Why should I apologize? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  A rude noise floated beside my ear, and her chin hit my shoulder as though she were going to pout. “She insulted me. Said I was high-maintenance, annoying, and noisy. You agreed with her.”

  “I agreed with her, yes. But to me, those things aren’t insults. They’re things I like about you.”

  “You must think I’m stupid too.”

  Without thinking, I kissed her palm again. “Let’s talk about this later, princess. You’ve had a long night.”

  The smallest of sighs brushed against my ear, and her body settled even farther against mine. Her chin was still on my shoulder, her lips still near my ear when we finally approached the Rotten Apple.

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I was still holding her hand, and I gave it a gentle squeeze. “No.”

  Neither of us said anything else.

  27

  Ivory

  * * *

  When Neo stepped into the apartment with me on his back, Beau’s eyes widened, Fletch waved, and Snort danced happily around our feet.

  My shoes made a squishing noise as water pooled out when Neo placed me on my feet. Earth came out of the kitchen, and a precarious feeling floated through the air when he stopped midstride and turned to glare.

  There were four pizza boxes and a carton of beers in his hands.

  “I thought I told you not to be here when I got back.”

  “I wasn’t,” I retorted.

  His stare was stony and unpleasant. “You cleaned my house.”

  “I had to. You never do.”

  His eyes flicked over me, no doubt noting how ridiculous I looked. “What happened to your face?”

  Worried, I reached up, fingering my cheeks until my hand brushed over a tender, stinging spot and making me wince. A vivid memory of being slammed against a wall—again—flashed through my mind.

  “Someone tried to kill me again.”

  He grunted. “Pizza’s getting cold.”

  Beside me, Neo relaxed. I hadn’t even known he was tense.

  Beau and Fletch both smiled, diving for the pizza and beer.

  “Come sit by me, Ivory,” Fletch yelled, already shoving food into his mouth.

  Did he ever stop eating? If I ate that way, I’d be a thousand pounds!

  Something brushed the small of my back, and I flinched, a low sound building in my throat. Neo didn’t pull back or react to my sudden scare. Instead, the pads of his fingers pressed more firmly against me, offering solace.

  “You’re safe here.”

  I believed him.

  “What if the huntsman comes here looking for me? You all could be in danger.” I worried.

  Seconds later, a body shoved between mine and Neo’s, arms winding around my waist and hugging tight. Fletcher’s honey-colored floppy hair tickled my cheek when he rubbed his nose against my shoulder. “You’re worried about us?”

  “Of course.”

  “Even Earth?” Beau grinned. He had pepperoni in his teeth.

  Earth didn’t bother to turn around to look at us from the couch. Instead, all I saw was the back of his dark head and the movement of the beer bottle tipping up against his lips.

  “Of course,” I answered instantly.

  Beau’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Earth.

  “Well, I don’t know why you all are so surprised. You’ve allowed me to stay here. You’ve offered me some sense of safety and a place to try and figure out my next move. You’ve all been very kind—some more than others—and I would never want anything bad to happen to any of you.”

  Fletcher made a sound and hugged me again, nearly knocking me over in his haste.

  Grabbing him by the back of the neck, Neo peeled him off, giving him a hard look. “That’s enough.”

  Unbothered, Fletcher went back to his seat and resumed inhaling the food.

  “Hey, turn that up,” Beau called, motioning toward the flat-screen.

  Earth obliged, raising the volume as the same news anchor from this morning filled the screen. It took a moment to register what she was saying because I marveled that it had only been one day. It truly felt as if I’d been here far longer.

  Missing Heiress – New Information

  The headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen as the woman stood in some sort of power suit she really shouldn’t have been wearing, holding a microphone and standing inside what appeared to be some garage.

  “There has been a new discovery in the case of missing heiress Ivory White who disappeared yesterday morning while out for her daily run in Central Park. The Upper East Side’s princess is presumed dead after the discovery of her blood in the park, and no one has seen or heard from her in nearly forty-eight hours. Authorities have not ruled this a recovery mission as of yet, but things were looking grim unt
il just a short while ago when some locals made a discovery in a parking garage not too far from Central Park.”

  I felt all the eyes of the men turn to me, and I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been cleaning this pigsty all day!”

  Feeling something, I turned to Neo who was pointedly avoiding my eyes while dividing his stare between the TV and the wall with a prominent grimace tugging at his lips. “It’s probably just some made-up crap by kids who want five minutes of fame,” he said, going over to snatch the remote from Earth like he would switch the channel.

  “Wait!” I gasped, putting my hand on his arm. “I want to see what they’re saying.”

  “It could be important.” Fletch agreed, still chomping. He had sauce on his chin.

  “About an hour ago, a mural was discovered in the middle of a parking garage, and it immediately added another layer of mystery to this already clandestine case.”

  The camera moved past the reporter to focus on a wide cement pole that was decorated in colorful paint.

  “That’s you!” Fletcher exclaimed.

  I couldn’t even argue. It was undeniably me.

  Moving closer, my body bumped the back of the couch as I took in the details of the painting, the dark hair that curled to hide the fact it was crudely uneven, the pale skin, red lips, and bow perched on my head like it could be a crown.

  The colors were simple. Even the art itself was simple… but nothing else about it was. The simplicity captured things that not even “professional” art could have portrayed. I felt admired as I stared at the work. I felt as though whoever painted it knew me in an almost intimate way.

  My stomach fluttered, and my fingers moved restlessly over the cushions on the couch.

  How could something so roughly painted in a dim, gritty garage with only three colors look so… captivating?

  “This image, which is clearly freshly painted and was not reported to be here this morning, has sparked new hope that perhaps Ivory White is still alive and whoever painted this might have information about her whereabouts.

  “More grim theories are also circling that perhaps this is some sort of tribute to a beautiful life cut far too short or the work of a madman silently bragging about his kill.”

  As the reporter spoke to the camera, the painting could still be seen behind her while police, photographers, and other people moved around treating that pole like a crime scene.

  The screen changed suddenly, ripping away the sight of the painting, making me blink. Another familiar image filled the screen, but it was much less captivating.

  Audra White – Grieving Stepmother Makes Plea

  My austere stepmother sat perfectly poised but also slightly out of sorts with a Hermes handkerchief clutched in her hand. Her top was black silk, the high neckline ruffled and subdued. Her blond hair had been pulled back, but not too severely so she still looked soft. Her makeup was done to perfection, not too glamourous but enough to highlight the fact that she was an extremely beautiful woman.

  My relationship with Audra could best be described as tolerable, even though I’d known this woman longer than my own mother. She never precisely liked me nor I her. But we got along for my father’s sake, coexisting in the same world but trying not to cross each other’s paths.

  She was so different from the memories I held close of my mother that I often wondered how my father could have such different tastes from one wife to the next. I never asked, though, because I didn’t care as long as he was happy, and he always, always had a smile for me.

  When he died, Audra remained composed. I assumed her emotionless, cold exterior was a front for her grief, as she was a woman who didn’t like to show weakness.

  Maybe that was why I was surprised to see her now. To hear the words she told the world.

  “Please.” She spoke, her voice filled with emotion. “If anyone out there has seen or heard from my stepdaughter, please call. She’s the only family I have left.” Pausing, she twisted the designer handkerchief in her fingers. When she looked up again, pure anguish filled her imploring gaze and actually made my heart squeeze.

  Had I misjudged her all these years? Did she perhaps like me more than I assumed?

  “I’m offering a reward for her safe return. A handsome amount for any clue. I just want her back safe and sound.” Her voice broke, the cloth lifted to her eyes to dab.

  My fingers tightened around the back of the sofa, and suddenly, I felt very selfish for not going home. For not calling to tell her I was all right.

  I’d let a madman dictate how I handled this. I’d let him scare me into hiding.

  Audra began to softly weep, her blond head bowing as sounds of suffering bubbled through the speakers. Suddenly, someone else was there, a man in a dove-gray suit and a pale-blue silk tie. His blond hair was styled neatly away from his face, his chiseled jaw completely smooth.

  His arm wrapped around her shoulders, making her look fragile as he looked into the camera with eyes that matched his tie. “Ivory, if you can hear this, be strong. We’re searching for you, and we won’t ever give up.”

  “Ethan,” I whispered, seeing the worry lines on his usually unlined face.

  And then they were gone, the screen flashing back to the parking garage, the reporter, and the painting of me.

  “We’ll keep you updated as more information is released.”

  An ad for toilet paper burst through the heavy silence, dancing bears shaking their bums.

  My emotions were all over the place, the faces of my stepmother and Ethan still flashing behind my eyes and the odd intimacy I’d felt when seeing that painting still humming through my veins. It took a moment to realize the TV had been muted.

  It took a moment for the thick silence to penetrate my deep emotions. When it finally did, I noted no one was staring at me, the missing heiress of NYC.

  Everyone was looking at Neo with varying degrees of shock and curiosity.

  He seemed rather sheepish, avoiding every single stare. Uncomfortable, his shoulders rolled under the open flannel.

  “After the hell you gave me earlier for letting her go to the laundromat,” Beau said, making Neo wince.

  I glanced back at the TV, then the walls bursting with Neo’s art. The back of my neck tingled, and I stared at him.

  His cheeks flushed.

  And then I knew. The intimacy. How a painting could be so crudely done but still utterly captivating.

  “You painted that,” I said, not really a question because there was truly no other answer.

  “Of course I didn’t,” he refuted.

  Closing the distance between us, I grasped his hand to look down. Paint splattered his fingers, red, white, black, and blue.

  “You painted that,” I repeated, holding the proof in my hands.

  Pulling his fingers from mine, he tucked them into the pockets of his jeans.

  “It was beautiful,” I said after a moment of awkward silence.

  His eyes lifted, the darkness in them suddenly shining like the moon had risen. I offered a small smile. He didn’t offer one back, but the glimmer in his eyes was better.

  “You gonna eat or what?” Earth spat, breaking the moment.

  Neo didn’t have to be told twice. If anything, he was beyond grateful for the escape. Setting aside the bag of clothes, he dove into the food.

  “You need to wash your hands!” I scolded.

  He paused, holding a slice against his lips.

  I lifted an eyebrow.

  Sighing, he put it down and went to the bathroom.

  “Whipped,” Earth muttered darkly, picking up Neo’s slice and stuffing it into his mouth.

  Placing my wet shoes neatly by the door, I padded around the couch. “Would it be all right if I cleaned up?”

  “I’ll save you a piece.” Fletcher volunteered.

  “Thank you.”

  My eyes went to Earth, and he lifted his eyes. “Put something over your face. You’re gonna bleed all over dinner.”

 
Bleeding! Forgetting his sour attitude, I raced off to the bathroom, nearly colliding with Neo on his way back to eat.

  “You!” I gasped, pushing a finger into his chest.

  “Now what?” he muttered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me my face was bleeding?”

  “It’s just a scratch. You’ll be okay.”

  Pushing past him, I dashed into the bathroom, which was still surprisingly clean, to look in the mirror. Oh. Right. The mirror I couldn’t see in.

  “Neo!” I yelled.

  “What?” he yelled back.

  “How am I supposed to see myself with this mirror hung so high?”

  “Shorty!” Fletcher called out, laughter in his voice.

  A few seconds went by, and no one did anything.

  “Neo!” I hollered again.

  His stomping footsteps announced him, and then his scowling face came around the corner. Pizza in one hand, he reached out with the other, taking the mirror down from where it hung and setting it on the back of the sink, leaning against the wall.

  “Ta-da,” he sang around chewing.

  “Chew with your mouth closed.”

  Leaning in, he chomped even louder right beside my ear.

  “That’s just disrespectful.” I sniffed but ruined it when I started to giggle.

  Neo pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose and disappeared, leaving me standing there shaken to the core. I didn’t know how to react to him. How to feel about him. When at last I could breathe again, I turned to the mirror and saw my reflection for the first time in almost two days.

  “Agh!” I screamed so loud the mirror actually quivered.

  Thunderous noise followed, and four large men somehow crammed themselves in the narrow bathroom door.

  “What is it? What happened?” Fletcher asked, crouching down as the others stood higher.

  Neo’s eyes were panicked, Beau was staring at the shower curtain I’d made him hang, and Earth’s eyes were also suspiciously worried. He probably had something in them.

  “What’s wrong?” Neo worried, pushing through the men to lightly grab my arm.

  “This!” I exclaimed, pointing at the mirror.